


What happens in Colorado stays in Colorado

by pastrychef



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen (Web Series)
Genre: Crying, Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, Holding Hands, Kissing, Mama Saffitz is there too, Nightmares, Whump, hurt!Claire, injured Claire Saffitz, soft Brad Leone, there is not enough whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27964310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastrychef/pseuds/pastrychef
Summary: What happens in Colorado stays in Colorado was something Claire lived by, day after day after day as she woke up, got ready for work, walked into the Test Kitchen, worked, shot videos, baked, went home and got ready for bed.—  edited & finished!
Relationships: Brad Leone & Claire Saffitz, Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	What happens in Colorado stays in Colorado

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe y'all haven't written proper whump yet. Anyway, as always - please don't share with anyone, all that stuff.
> 
> RIP BA and WELCOME Claire to YouTube. 
> 
> And I hope you guys are still there cause I read through all the 200 something works about Brad and Claire and I need more, thank you very much. Everyone here is so talented. 
> 
> Also I'm kinda new here so uh please be nice and gentle and enjoy!

What happened in Colorado stays in Colorado was something Claire lived by, day after day after day as she woke up, got ready for work, walked into the Test Kitchen, worked, shot videos, baked, went home and got ready for bed. 

What happened in Colorado stays in Colorado was important to her, especially when she saw Brad rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, watched as his strong arms and even stronger yet gentle hands gestured wildly as he was talking to the camera or a colleague. 

What happened in Colorado stays in Colorado was the reason she didn’t get enough sleep. Because Colorado had been more to her than just the pie contest and the fact that they didn’t even place (which she was still salty about), more than fried food and more work and old ladies. Colorado had been strong yet gentle hands on her bare skin, surprisingly soft lips on her collarbones and neck, warm breath against the shell of her ear, soft moans and grunts. Colorado was the reason she now knew that Half Sour Saffitz was not only meant to be yelled through the test kitchen but had an even stronger effect on her when it was whispered against her ear. 

And Claire hated it. She hated all of the reasons she couldn’t read or hear, or even think about Colorado anymore without feeling her heartbeat strong and noticeable in her ears, the light touch on her bare skin, the heat collecting in her lower abdomen.

____________________

It was another Friday morning when her alarm blared through her apartment, another Friday where she would be running on less than maybe two hours of sleep as she had spent half of the night staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out and sort the mess of thoughts that were resting heavily on her shoulders, and the other half in some sort of dream (nightmare? She wasn't sure) which somehow always ended up with her waking up, soaked in sweat, with the lingering touch of Brad’s stupid and goddamn hands around her thighs. 

She got up with a sigh after silencing her phone. It wasn’t like she had been up for at least three hours, not at all, but it was still hard to leave the warmth and comfort of her bed, totally aware of the sloppy mix of rain and snow that would make going to work worse than it already was. Just the thought of seeing Brad after a week again -- he had been gone to film some kind of crab thing in Alaska -- was surprisingly uncomfortable and she groaned on the way to the bathroom. 

Things had been weird between them since the Monday morning after the pie contest once they were back in New York. Usually working together with Brad was always exciting and jokes and so much joy but now, as they kept shuffling past each other, avoiding eye contact and just the slightest touch, she was uncomfortable. It hadn't always been like this, but since their night at the hotel in Denver a lot of things had changed. 

Claire fed Felix before she grabbed a slice of walnut and banana bread before she slipped into her shoes, zipped up the jacket and headed out into whatever kind of shitty weather New York City had in store for her today. It wouldn’t be different in the test kitchen -- the usual heat between her and Brad had cooled a whole lot while they both somehow had to work around each other and suppress the feelings that had bubbled up in Colorado. Claire shuddered when she thought about it, but she wasn't sure if it was just that or the cold wind mixed with rain and even snow that was hitting her face. It pulled her out of her thoughts just for long enough to check if there were any cars coming her way as she had planned to skip the long wait at the red traffic light and just cross the street, and once her brain had registered the cab driving off south she hurried over to the other side, to the Subway station. 

Now that she thought about it (and took another bite of her somewhat soaked slice of banana bread) Brad had been as uncomfortable as her at work. She knew that he had feelings for her, after all he had practically growled the three words into her ear as he reached his high -- with her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands gripping his hair, she had to add in his defense -- but she had practically done the same just moments later. Then, the morning after, she had made him swear to never tell anyone what had happened the night before. And of course Brad had agreed because he wanted Claire to be happy, didn’t want to lose her, and he knew that her anxiety was really bad sometimes and she needed to be in control. 

Claire sighed softly as she couldn't help but think about him, the way his strong arms held the cleaver he was constantly waving around and pointing at random people and friends with, how his shirt rode up whenever he stretched to get something from a high- screeching tires pulled her out of her very Brad heavy thoughts and when she turned around to see where the noise was coming from -- she frowned over how loud it was -- she was met by headlights too close to her to be in her comfort zone. 

Much to her surprise it didn’t feel like slow motion. The car was just there, and the next thing Claire noticed was pain to the point where she wanted to scream and beg for it to stop, but she wasn't able to move. Her vision got blurry and she blinked, looked up into the sky as wet, mushy snow and water mixed with something warm underneath her -- she tried to reach out, but somehow her stupid and surprisingly useless left arm didn’t cooperate -- and when the voices got louder around her and blurry blobs in various colors appeared over her she decided that she had enough. She closed her eyes to think about what had just happened.

____________________

Brad was quietly mumbling to himself as he took his cleaver and started to slice cabbage for another -- his third -- test batch of homemade sauerkraut. He hadn't been happy with the first two, one of them had gotten a lot more moldy and at a pace even he wasn't able to control anymore. The cabbage squeaked under his fingers as he massaged the salt into it, crunched it up and quietly chuckled to himself while he thought of the joke he had made at some point while his cabbage crushers kept squeezing the water out of the thin slices. 

While he had his hands in the bowl, the same hands that had been on Claire’s skin just weeks ago (he shook his head to get rid of the thoughts), he couldn't help but look up at one of his colleagues. 

“Hey Chris! Bud, what time is it?” He practically yelled through the whole kitchen while Chris was standing in front of his cutting board and ripped kale into smaller pieces. 

“Past 10, Brad” Molly yelled back. “Get yourself a watch!” 

“Ah, thanks Molly! Nah, ain’t fittin’ around my wrist. I have gigantic hands. Fuckin’ paws right here!” Brad chuckled quietly at himself before he looked back down at his cabbage. Then his head shot back up. “Anyone here seen ole’ half sour? She ain’t a mornin’ person but ten ‘s kinda late, huh? Even for Saffitz.” Brad knew that Claire wasn't a morning person. Of course he knew, he was basically head over heels in love with her since the day she had introduced herself to him, and even though she seemed rather distant after the whole pie contest thing he still cared about her. 

Waking up next to her had been a dream coming true to him. She had fallen asleep before him, all curled up in front of him with a whole bunch of fabric from one of her blankets -- Claire got cold easily and she just liked being comfortable -- bunched up in her hands, and Brad hadn't been able to hold himself back from spooning her. That was how they had spent the night until morning, until 9am when she had decided to wake up and open her eyes. Then the awkward conversation had followed, right after her shifting away from him and wrapping the blanket tighter around her bare body. 

And Brad had been stupid enough to agree to what happens in Colorado stays in Colorado a few minutes later to keep Claire from panicking. He knew that she had this overthinking issue, that’s why he checked in with her so many times at work, and some anxiety too, and all these things didn’t make the situation they had been in easier. So he had agreed to keep whatever had happened in Colorado to himself even though it broke him a little more each day he wasn't able to be close to her. 

“Brad?”

The man flinched and looked up. “Huh? What’s up Carla?”

“Can you answer your phone please? It’s getting a little annoying.” 

“Huh? Sorry, fuckin’ stupid thing. Should've left it on silent.” He walked over to the sink to wash his hands before he reached for the device in one of the pockets of his jeans. “Stupid spam calls.” His thumb hovered over the red decline button, the one he used the most, but when his eyes scanned the screen and he spotted the name of Claire’s mother on the screen his heart stopped for a moment.  
And of course, this time he answered the phone. “Hey Mrs. S!” Brad doesn't know why he has Sauci’s number. He doesn’t know how it got into his phone, he guessed it had happened after a detour had forced him off the interstate on his way to Cape Cod for their final episode of Making Perfect Thanksgiving, but he definitely wasn't mad when he heard the woman’s voice. 

“Brad, hello.” 

And then Brad had to sit down after Sauci told him about the accident her daughter had been in. She explained what had happened, how she had been called after a pedestrian had noticed that Claire had set her up as her emergency contact (very Claire-like, she was a virgo after all), how the police had explained to her what had happened. 

“And with the blizzard happening I can’t leave the house.” She finished and then paused. “Brad, are you still there?”

“Y-yeah, sure. Uhm, Mrs. S- why’d you call me?”

“Because I know that you and Claire are good friends, and I trust you. You’re a great guy, Brad. Please make sure she is okay until I get to New York. I don’t know what is happening, I haven’t heard anything since they took her to the hospital.” 

Brad cleared his throat and quickly ran his hand over his face. He adjusted his goobalini and then got up to fetch his jacket. “Uhm, yeah. Sure. ‘f course! Uh, I’ll- I’ll leave right now. Thanks for the call, Mrs. S. I’ll keep ma’ eyes on your little one and, uh, call you. Text. Whatever.” 

Half an hour later he was walking through the doors of the hospital. After a quick chat with the lady behind the desk and a soft smile while he mumbled something about his fiancé being there (white lie, he was sure he wouldn't go to hell for that but it had been the only idea he had had to ensure they would let him see Claire) he was allowed to proceed to the waiting room of the ER. His hands had not stopped shaking, not once, and he cursed himself for pressing the wrong button in the elevator (“Fuckin’ shit, Brad, focus!”), but ten minutes later he walked into the waiting room of the ER and flopped down with a sigh. 

____________________

Whatever was happening right now -- Claire hated it. Absolutely hated it. Her limbs were heavy, too heavy to move and she was cold? She usually wasn't cold, especially not in bed, but she knows she’s not up on her feet cause she has no feeling in them. Claire didn’t feel anything except cold, and it freaked her out. If there was one thing that she hated, truly hated more than anything else, it was not being in control. And right now she definitely wasn't in control, she wasn't even able to open her eyes. Claire hated it. She tried to grip onto a string of thoughts that crossed her mind and it seemed surprisingly messy -- definitely not as sorted and clean as she was used to -- but then she felt the tiny bit of strength leaving her arms and she fell? Yes, she was falling, but it seemed endless and as she waited for the impact of her body on whatever was underneath her she tried to reach for her thoughts again. 

____________________

Brad had successfully finished his 10k-steps-a-day goal (the floors of the hospital were empty anyway and he had to do something to keep himself from freaking out), right in time for a nurse to show up to tell him that he could see his wife now. His wife. He needed a moment to process that thought after stopping himself from saying “Uh, nah, we’re jus’ good friends” and then he just nodded and followed her directions to the second floor, the fucking ICU. 

And then he found himself sitting next to the stupid bed his colleague was in, with a white bandage wrapped around her head and some kind of stupid tubes resting under her nose, on top of the back of her left hand -- Brad frowned, after all she’d need it soonish and more than her right one that had been officially labeled as absolutley useless -- and disappearing under the collar of the pale greenish hospital gown. 

“Don’t be mad at them when you wake up, Claire. They don’t know you’re a leftie” he mumbled and sighed softly. “You look like shit.” Brad’s hand hovered over her’s and after he had moved the back of his fingers over the pale, even ashy skin of her wrist he wrapped his fingers around her tiny hand and held it. “Fuckin’ cold hands too.” He held it just to warm it up. Of course.

Somehow Brad felt a little better now that he was at least able to see Claire. He was still talking to himself, muttering quietly as he was afraid to wake her, but at least he got to be in the same room. His mom had always said that there was not a single reason to disturb a recovering person’s sleep and since Brad was aware of how stressful Claire’s day to day life already was with the strict schedule at work he was happy that -- even though it was somewhat forced -- she had finally gotten a chance to sleep. The deep circles under her eyes that she had been trying to hide the past couple of weeks, maybe even months, had gotten deeper with each passing hour and he was looking forward to the day they would start to fade again. 

It hurt to see Claire like this. Even paler than what he was used to, with her eyes closed and almost lifeless. Brad knew that he would never forget how calm and at peace she had been after their night in Colorado, how she had curled up further against his side after he had tried to wake her. They had been on a schedule to catch the flight back to New York but he had taken a few moments to look at her all snuggled up and at peace, calm and relaxed with her cheeks slightly rosy and the dark, unruly hair all over the place. Now she just looked wrong.

He kept talking for just a touch of comfort in the otherwise rather sterile and empty room. At some point Brad reached for his jacket and gently draped it over Claire’s upper body, tugged on the hems until he was satisfied with its placement, and then he went back to sitting, staring, talking and occasionally rubbing the slightly calloused pad of his thumb over the back of Claire’s hand. Nurses came and went, adjusted whatever drugs were entering his colleague’s body at the moment -- hopefully a whole bunch of painkillers cause if someone deserved them it was Claire -- and he texted Sauci every now and then to let her know that nothing had changed at all. 

____________________

“They’ll kick me out at like seven, bub. Wanna wake up and tell me to shut up? My mouth’s dry as fuck from all that stupid talking I’ve been doin’.” 

Brad was ready to give up. It was after two now, he hadn’t had any lunch and even worse, he still hadn’t gotten a reaction from his favorite pastry chef in the whole world. Sitting there not able to do anything was Brad’s personal hell. Even worse was that he now began to realize what had happened earlier that day. The adrenalin in his body had decided to fuck off which left him drained and suddenly hyperaware of everything that was going on around him. 

The steady beeping of machines monitoring Claire’s heart, the clip on her finger measuring the oxygen level, the anxiety of her not being fully there due to the possible damage the accident might have caused. A single tear slipped out of Brad’s eye and he wiped it away quickly. “Claire” he then mumbled defeated. “C’mon. Time to wake up..” 

Still nothing. Her eyelids didn’t flutter, her fingertips didn’t twitch -- nothing. The tall man sighed for what felt like the thirtieth time since he had been next to her bed and lowered his head until it was resting on the mattress, right next to Claire’s hand. 

“Can’t lose you, bub.” 

___________________

Claire felt bullied by her own body. She had been wrapped in a blanket of false sense of security while her surroundings were colorless and she was drifting in limbo, warm and happy and with her head empty. Even if she tried to think of something, anything — nothing would happen. Just nothing. No thoughts, no dreams, no experiences or memories. And Claire was quite okay with that? Surprisingly okay. She could get used to this calm and peaceful place. 

However, the subtle throbbing of her head got worse with each passing second and suddenly she wished for something she could focus on to battle the nausea that washed over her. The worst migraine of her life was nothing compared to what she was experiencing at the moment, and all Claire wanted to do was to scream. Her head, then her shoulder, her leg. Then she felt all the memories coming back with such a force that she held her breath and gasped for air a moment later. 

Brad’s head shot up immediately and he got on his legs to have a closer look at Claire. Instead of watching her open her eyes he felt faint pressure around his hand. Claire’s fingers were twitching slightly against his skin and the man gently raised her hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of it. “C’mon, half-sour. Almost there” he whispered in encouragement when his voice cracked. “Almost there.” His hand found its way to the woman’s cheek and he ran his thumb over the soft and pale skin while he avoided the oxygen tube. It hurt to see her struggling. Brad was aware of the lowered dose of pain medication she was getting at the moment to coax her out of her deep slumber and while it seemed to be working he didn’t want her to be in pain. 

“Hey Claire” he mumbled almost too quietly and couldn't hold back a sob of relief when her eyelids fluttered and just a moment later she looked at him. Then Claire groaned and tears rose in her eyes, spilled over her cheeks and soaked her hair underneath. 

The pain was worse than everything she had been through. That was the only thing she was currently able to think about as her body pulsed and she wanted to curl up, press her forehead into the cool pillow, arch her back to escape the feeling. She was forced to close her eyes again as the bright light above the bed was way too bright after being surrounded by nothing for quite a while, and then she felt warmth against her cheek. 

Usually Claire wouldn't like being touched, especially not in the state she was in right now, but the gentle touch had something comforting. The way the slightly calloused fingertips rested on the skin right under her ear and moved over baby hairs on her neck, the warmth -- it felt good and distracted her from the pain shooting through her body for a few moments. 

“Hurts like a bitch, huh? No worries, you’ll get something nice in just a sec.” Brad stayed close to her and kept his hand on her cheeks to let her know she wasn't alone while a nurse came into the room and messed with the meds. 

It didn’t take long for Claire to relax again and she felt the tension that had gripped her muscles draining out of her body. She slowly opened her eyes once the headache had turned back to being just a full throb and as she opened the first thing she saw was her colleague. “Brad.” With her brows furrowed the woman tried to sit up, but he reached out immediately and shook his head. 

“Stay right there. No moving, half-sour.” 

“The car-“ Claire started and choked back a sob. 

“Yes. Do you remember?” He pulled his hand from her cheek but stayed next to the bed and close enough for Claire to be able to focus on him. “The whole thing?”

“No, just- just the headlights” she mumbled and cleared her throat weakly. It hurt, it was dry, she needed water. Brad must’ve read her thoughts cause just a moment later he reached over to something on the small nightstand. 

“Here, big and slow sip.” 

Just then Claire noticed how soft and gentle his voice was. Not loud and cheerful like usual, like always, but way more quiet and easy on her hurting head. One of his hands found its way to her neck and then cupped the backside of it, with his long and strong fingers resting against the sides and partly under her head. Brad helped her lift it up just enough for her to catch the straw with her lips and she took small and careful sips. 

Being so close to him was strangely comforting. Brad was there and Claire knew that he wouldn’t leave anytime soon. Brad cared. And it meant a lot to her. She wasn’t a social butterfly like him, it wasn’t easy for her to take care of the small number of friends she had with all the work and recipe testing she had been swamped with for months already. Sure, they still met for coffee or dinner every now and then, but it wasn’t as frequent anymore with most of them being in a relationship or busy with kids and jobs. 

Claire must’ve spaced out for a bit as Brad smiled softly once she blinked and shifted her focus to him again. “Thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’?” 

“What? No, uhm- no.” She yawned and lightly tugged on the blanket.

“You cold?” 

“Mhm. Just a bit. It’s fine.” Claire shifted and then slowly looked around. She noticed the lack of color on the walls, the beeping monitors next to the bed, the tubes and cables she was connected to. While her right arm was tucked under the blanket and felt too heavy to move she brought up the left and looked at the IV stuck to the back of her hand. “Hospital?” 

“Yeah. ICU actually. ‘Cause of your noodle, and you’re at high risk for internal bleeding. They’re keepin’ a close eye on ya for the next couple of days'' Brad explained and then reached out again to hold her hand between both of his. 

Claire nodded slightly and exhaled. “Okay” she mumbled and closed her eyes to keep herself together and under control. It was scary as fuck and she knew that she would’ve had a full breakdown alreasy if Brad hadn’t been there. He kept her sane to some extent, at least for now, and she appreciated it. “Brad” the woman suddenly said and looked at him. “For how long have I been here? When- when was the crash?” It seemed as if her thoughts were bouncing back and forth in her head and she suddenly had so many questions and concerns. “Do my parents know? Are they here?” 

“Hey, slow down Saffitz.” Brad rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and smiled. “We’re in no rush, I ain’t goin’ home anytime soon and you aren't either.” He scooted to the edge of the chair. “Your parents know. Your mom called me after a pedestrian found her saved as your emergency contact” he began slowly to allow her to understand what he was saying. 

The woman closed her eyes for a moment before she opened them again and nodded. “Uh huh. Understood.” Now that she thought about it it was weird being so close to Brad, having him hold her hand, but then again she didn’t complain as it was comforting to see a familiar face. 

“Well, uh, I started wondering where you were at around ten? Ten-ish? And then shortly after Sauci called.” 

“You answered your phone?”

“It’s not everyday that Sauci Saffitz calls, Claire. At least not me.” 

A shy smile appeared on Claire’s lips and she nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess. And she told you? Wait, I think-” 

Brad hummed. “Yeah. Probably your head, Half-sour. No worries. Anyway, I got here by 10:45 and you were in the ER. Scared the shit out of me, not gonna lie. They were worried about your noodle for quite a bit and did some tests, but it’s just a concussion. Thank God, Claire. I was so relieved when you woke up.” 

“It feels worse than a concussion.” She lightly squeezed his big hand and kept her eyes on him. “What else? It must be pretty bad if I’m in the ICU and you look like you haven't slept in days.” Claire’s voice had gotten smaller and she took a deep breath. Talking was suddenly so exhausting and even keeping her eyes open was harder than she had thought. “You said something about internal bleeding?”

“Yeah, but nothing seems to be leaking for now. Which is a good sign” he added and reached out to push a gray strand of hair back behind her ear, gently tugged on it to move it to the side as the bandage on her forehead seemed to be holding it in place. “They stapled the back of your head though. You were bleeding quite a bit.”

It made sense. Claire’s head did hurt, like shit actually, and now that she was aware of it not even the painkillers were able to numb it the way she wanted it to be numbed. The petite woman took a deep breath. “Okay. What else?” She would've checked her body herself but Brad had more information anyway and there was a small chance of her panicking if he would keep his mouth shut for another mi-

“Uh, yeah, so, you landed on your right shoulder. Nothin’ broken, just...what’s it called? They popped it back in, but there’s a whole lot of bruising going on. Everywhere. Hey Saffitz, deep breaths.” Brad watched as her breathing sped up quite a bit and the palm of her hand got sweaty. He knew that Claire had issues with anxiety, but he wasn't aware how bad it really was. “Claire, I got you. Listen, you’ll be A-OK after this little vacation here. Until then you’ll lean back and relax. Alright?”

“Brad, this isn’t a vacation!”

“Why not? Technically it is. It costs money, you’re somewhere that isn't home. A vacation.” 

Claire rolled her eyes at him but couldn't help but smile. “I hate you!”

“That’s fine.” Brad chuckled and patted her arm. “You’ll be fine and back on your feet in no time, Claire. Jus’ allow your body to heal, okay? And I promise I’ll bring you a whole jar of garlic. Your parents will be here asap and I am staying until either the nurses or you kick me out.” Then his voice got softer. “You’re not alone, Claire.” 

____________________

Claire fell asleep at some point while Brad was telling her some story about fishing? She wasn't sure, but when she woke up again he wasn't there anymore. However, his jacket was still draped over her upper body, above the blanket to keep her warm, and she reached out to pull it closer. It smelled of warm spices and Brad’s cologne, and suddenly Claire remembered that she had worn it just weeks ago in the walk in. Claire kept tugging on it until she was able to bury her nose and drown in Brad’s smell. Before she had a chance to think more about the feeling of the soft fabric hugging her small frame she felt exhaustion wash over her and her eyes closed again. 

____________________

It was nine when Brad entered the room the next morning and quietly closed the door behind him. He was about to say something when he saw a nurse standing next to Claire’s bed and then stopped in his tracks. “Claire? You good?”

“Huh? Yeah, just- one sec, Brad.”

He noticed the way the blanket was folded to the side to reveal her left leg up to her thigh, that’s where the nurse blocked the view, but instead of looking at the pale, milky skin (he had seen it back in Colorado) the whole side was bruised and purple. “Oh boy.” Seeing her body like this tugged on his heart. Claire didn’t deserve being stuck to a bed in the hospital, all by herself. 

The nurse left just moments later and Brad flopped down on the plastic chair on the right, where he had spent most of his time the day before already. “How’d ya’ sleep? Didn’t want to wake ya when they kicked me out yesterday.” He placed the paper bag he had been holding on the blanket right above her thighs and watched as her eyes went big. 

“You got me pastries for breakfast?!” 

“Duh! ‘f course! Can’t leave you hangin’ with boring hospital food, half-sour.”

Claire smiled at him. It was an honest, warm smile, one he had seen so many times already but somehow couldn't get enough of, especially if it was meant for him. She looked better than the day before, her skin didn’t seem as ashy anymore and the way her brown eyes focused on him almost brought Brad to his knees. He would do anything for her, and anything was for now getting her something nice to eat to cheer her up. 

The bag rustled and moments later Claire had half a croissant in her hand. She offered it to Brad who declined politely (“They’re yours, Claire. Eat.”) and then pushed a piece past her lips to take a bite. Her eyes were closed when she chewed the flaky pastry slowly, savored every bite and then hummed in approval. 

“They’re perfect, Brad. Thank you so much. Are you sure you don’t want a piece?”

“‘Preciate your offer” the tall man said and chuckled. “But I already had coffee and a beautiful sandwich.” He looked at his watch and sighed. “Work’s calling. You eat and rest, okay?”

Claire nodded and took another bite. She didn’t want him to leave, she didn’t want to be by herself all day, but then again Brad would probably come over again after work and spend the rest of the evening with her. It was something Claire appreciated a lot. Brad had always been there. Whenever she had been sick (which happened quite often) he had shown up at least once to drop off homemade chicken noodle soup or a whole load of garlic (in honey, black or raw), miserable and frustrated at the test kitchen after another failed attempt to temper chocolate or just whenever she needed a shoulder to lean on. Brad had been there. 

“Okay” the dark haired woman nodded and looked at him, smiled again. “Thank you. I owe you.” 

“Ah nonsense, bub. You’re my favorite, and I promised your mama to keep an eye on you. Maybe you should give her a call while I’m slavin’ my ass off.” 

Claire chuckled lightly. “We talked on the phone before you got here. No worries. And thank you for your jacket. It must’ve been cold on the boat home yesterday.” 

The tall man just shrugged and looked at her. It was warm and so full of love that Claire felt herself drowning in his bright blue eyes as they pulled her in like a wave sucking her into the open sea. “Ah, don't. You needed it more than me. Want me to get some things from home for ya? I wouldn’t mind pickin’ them up on the way” he offered and Claire nodded. 

She had thought about that as well. Sure, she could probably ask Molly or Carla, or other friends, but then again she didn’t want to bother them with anything. Claire hated asking for help, and she hated bothering others. And Brad would come back to visit her after work anyway, if she wanted or not. Her mother wouldn’t be able to visit her for another day or two, depending on how fast the snow would melt, but for now it seemed as if she would have to allow Brad to go through not only her underwear drawer to get her something comfortable and warm to wear. 

“Hey Claire? You there, bub?” He looked at her with his head tilted slightly and chuckled when she blinked and focused on him again. “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing. I’ll grab a handful of clothes and then come over. I hate seein’ that stupid hospital gown on you.” Brad frowned. “Fuckin’ ugly.” 

He left with Claire’s keys to her apartment and without the jacket as it was draped over her upper body again. After breakfast they had talked for a few more minutes until sleep had creeped up on her and she had been out like a light even before Brad had been able to ask her about dinner. But he knew what she liked — not only on the table but maybe in bed too (he shook his head to get rid of the thought) — and he hoped to bring some kind of familiar comfort to the empty and cold hospital room, at least for a few moments with a slice of Scarr’s pizza. 

____________________

Claire left the ICU the day after and when Brad dropped off another bag of pastries for breakfast the next day he saw Sauci sitting next to her daughter’s bed. She put away the newspaper and smiled slightly at Brad. 

“Mrs S!” Brad exclaimed and started grinning before he tossed the bag with still warm croissants and other goodies at Claire, who caught it with just her left hand. He had always been jealous of her ability to catch, either the ingredients Dan threw at her to spice things up during the shoots or Brad’s heart. 

“Good morning Brad. It’s good to see you.” 

“Likewise!” The man grinned at Claire. “Funky shirt you have there, Claire!” 

She chuckled and ripped one of the croissants in half, offering him one of the halves. The bag was resting on her thighs again. “It’s literally just a black t-shirt, Brad.” 

He denied (“S’yours, Claire. Eat.”) and then sat down next to Sauci. “Real nice to be here and not in the ICU. Place ’s horrible. Freakin’ white and empty and god, the constant beepin’!” 

Sauci chuckled while Claire was focusing on nibbling the little chocolate and caramel pieces off her croissant. Brad was spoiling her with the good stuff, the one she only got when she didn’t have enough time to go on a proper vacation and had to track down actual French pastry to make her feel better, even if the feeling just lasted a good second. She knew that just one of the things in the bag wasn’t under ten bucks a pastry and her heart grew at the thought of Brad leaving early to pick up a variety just for her. She appreciated it and the warm feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach after the night in Colorado suddenly rose again. 

“Claire? Hey, Claire!” 

She blinked and focused on Brad. “Huh? Sorry, spaced out. What did you say?” 

“I said that I like the braids! Haven’t seen you with them before, they suit you!” 

“Oh” she mumbled and then smiled lightly. “Thanks. They removed that awful bandage and mom braided them to get them out of my face.” Claire reached out and carefully patted the two French braids on her scalp before she focused back on the pastry. “And I’m finally wearing actual clothes.” 

“I can’t even braid fuckin’ Challah. Nice job, Mrs S!” 

____________________

Claire was allowed to leave the hospital a week later. With her mom back in Cape Cod (“Mom, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me too much, okay? I promise I’ll call”) she was now waiting for Brad to show up after work to take her back to her apartment. 

She was happy about getting rid of the sling that had kept her right arm resting and across her chest for several days, making it hard to do anything while the IV was connected to the back of her left hand. It had been a major inconvenience for the last week, but with the right dose of painkillers and the help of her mom (and Brad) things had been manageable. 

The only things Claire still worried about were the massive bruises still covering her body and-

“Ohh nice! I, Robot? Funky shit you have there!” Brad exclaimed when he entered the room and saw Claire sitting on the bed, with both legs dangling above the ground. Her right leg was wrapped in a brace that supported her knee and Claire couldn't help but chuckle and then roll her eyes. 

“What are you talking about? It’s just a brace, Brad” she mumbled amused and reached for the bag standing next to her, only to be stopped by the man who had his hand on the handles already. 

“Dude with the robot arm! Seriously Claire, you have to work on your movie knowledge. Ready to go home?” 

She nodded and smiled. “So excited.” 

____________________

Claire couldn’t help but think about the one time she had made ice cream sandwiches for the BA YouTube channel. After going through multiple swabs they had prepared she had asked her colleagues if they wanted to try them and then, after handing Gaby one with sprinkles (“Uhh, I love the sprinkles!”) and explaining to Chris that the filling was vanilla and green tea, not mint (“I was so excited, I thought it was mint chip. It’s not mint chip?” and then he had made a face), Brad had invaded her space by just taking the one she had been holding out of her hands to take a bite. But Claire didn’t mind. Brad was the only one who was allowed to invade both her personal space and privacy whenever he wanted. She was so used to him being there, used to him almost lying on the countertop of her work station with his nose in whatever bowl of batter she was currently working on, and Claire — she didn’t mind. 

Right now Brad was invading her privacy again, with his hands deep inside her underwear drawer while she was wrapped in a towel in the bathroom and Claire was getting impatient. Her body ached and the lack of painkillers in her system she had not gotten used to yet had reached a point where she was about to snap. 

“Brad!” 

“Huh? Sorry Claire! Do you want-“ 

“Just whatever!” 

She heard him swear (“Sonuvabitch, ouch!”) and then Brad returned with a bunch of clothes in his right hand while he rubbed his elbow with his left. 

“Are these okay?” He put them down on the free space next to the sink and watched while Claire went through them and nodded. Underwear (comfortable, plain black hipsters, thank god), a sports bra and then a pair of black socks, leggings and an oversized hoodie Brad had gotten her as a souvenir when he had been in Alaska to go crabbing. 

Claire just nodded and got dressed after Brad had left the room. It was her third day at home and the sun had set, and Brad was there again. He still came over before and after work even though it meant that he had to start his day an hour earlier than usual just to get to her place and then back to lower Manhattan to the office. He did it for her and Claire was thankful for his help. 

Even though she was usually able to take care of herself, her shoulder forced her to slow down. The heavy cast iron skillet was suddenly impossible to pick up, just like mixing or rolling out whatever kind of dough, it had taken her almost twenty minutes to get the delivered groceries inside and into the fridge. Laundry had been awful too -- everything had been awful. 

“Hey Brad?” Claire slowly made her way from the bathroom to the living room, only to find Brad in the open kitchen behind the couch. “What are you doing?”

“Uhm, making dinner? Duh.” 

“Brad- the kitchen looks like-” 

“Well, I’m makin’ multiple meals. Like, meal preppin’. Y’know?”

Claire eyed him and then the mountain of ingredients on the counter. “Yeah, I’ve heard of that before. And why exactly are you meal prepping?”

“Cause you clearly can’t move without looking like you just stubbed your toe all the time. And Claire? I don’t want you to look like that. Fuckin’ rips my heart apart.” Brad looked at her maybe for longer than he should have, the tip of his ears had turned into some kind of red Claire had seen before (whenever he was a little embarrassed) and then he cleared his throat to focus on the vegetables in front of him. “Can’t have you looking like a sad pupper all the time. Man, I wonder what Toby Goofy is up to right now.” 

“Probably lying on some boots, just enjoying life.” Claire made her way over to the couch and sat down with a sigh. “Brad, can you pass me some water and the meds? I’m going insane, I don’t understand how it can still hurt so bad.” 

“You’re sore, bub” he mumbled and got her a cup of water together with pain killers. “Shouldn’t you be halfway through them already?” 

She looked at him and scrunched her nose. “They make me so dizzy and then I can’t think anymore.” 

“Which is, like, your favorite hobby, huh?” Brad got her throw blanket and pulled it all the way up to her chin once she was settled on the couch. “Overthinkin’.” He gently tucked it under her legs, careful to avoid her knee. 

“It’s- yeah. I do that a lot.” A yawn left her body and Claire leaned back. “Thank you for making me dinner. I really appreciate your help.” 

“Hey, sure!” 

For the next fifteen minutes Claire listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen, the way Brad muttered here and there while he was prepping vegetables and meat, the sizzle in the pan. Then her medication kicked in. She got more and more comfortable under the blanket and decided to close her eyes for just a minute. The night had been short -- she had been drugged to the brim at the hospital, but now that she refused to take so many pills at once as they were harsh on her stomach she woke up more frequently -- and mixed with tossing, turning and the occasional nightmare that always involved cars she barely got more than a couple of hours. 

Brad kept talking, unaware of her being asleep, but after he hadn't gotten an answer in a good five minutes -- not even a small chuckle -- he checked on her and couldn't stop smiling. 

Claire’s tiny hands were curled slightly, her head had rolled to the side against the back of the couch and her lips were parted just enough for her to breathe through them. 

She slept until it was time for a late dinner (a soft “Claire? Bub, you gotta wake up. Made you somethin’ real delicious” mixed with warmth on her cheek coming from Brad’s large hand) and then they ate in silence. The beef stew was on point. Not too hot to eat, loaded with tender vegetables and perfectly seasoned, as always. 

“Good” she mumbled and finished the last spoon before handing him the now empty bowl. 

A grin appeared on Brad’s face while he got up and brought everything back to the kitchen. “Want some more?”

“God, no. I’m so full and sleepy.” Her left hand rested on top of her stomach and she closed her eyes again. “Thank you..” 

“Told you, you’re welcome. Time for bed, Saffitz?” 

Claire just hummed, but instead of standing up and making her way to the bedroom she just yawned again and pulled the blanket back over her shoulders. “Uh huh.” 

Ten minutes later the kitchen was clean, the dishwasher was loaded and brad was crouching and leaning over his favorite pastry chef. Claire was barely able to keep her eyes open and -- when she felt Brad’s hand on her cheek again she subconsciously leaned against it and furrowed her brows for a moment.

“Let’s getcha to bed, Claire” Brad mumbled barely loud enough for her to understand -- he didn’t want to pull her out of the sleepy state she was currently in and yes, he knew how to keep his voice down (sometimes it was just too big of a hassle, but not for claire) -- and then had her tucked against his chest in just a few moments, with her head resting against the side of his neck. 

____________________

Brad took her to the bedroom, careful not to bump against any walls or the door frame and he cradled her in his arms like a newborn baby, afraid to hurt her. 

“Hey Claire?” His voice was barely a whisper (a pretty raspy one, he wasn’t used to whispering) when he talked to her and smiled as her eyelids twitched lightly. She wasn't fully asleep yet. “Promise me to brush your teeth real good tomorrow mornin’.” 

Claire just hummed for a moment and then settled against him with a sigh again. Her nose picked up not only his smell, lots of Brad mixed with the usual warm spices, but some of the vegetables he had prepared for dinner as well mixed with a hint of maybe cumin as well, she wasn’t sure. The warmth soaking through his shirt and into her clothes was more than welcome (she has been rather lonely and cold on the couch by herself earlier) and her hand found his way against his broad chest to grab some of the fabric. 

After Brad had lowered her onto the mattress he reached for the duvet and tucked her in. “There you go, bub” the man mumbled and tucked a strand of gray hair behind her ear, ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. “I’ll be back tomorrow for breakfast.” 

But he couldn’t stop looking at her. The soft glow from the moon illuminated the room and tied the tall man’s eyes to her face and he felt like he had never seen someone more beautiful than Claire. 

____________________

Claire’s couch was comfortable, especially after Brad had put away the meals he had prepared for the following days, and he took a deep breath once he was sinking deeper into the pillows behind him. He had found a bottle of beer in her fridge (he just wanted to stay for a few minutes to make sure Claire would be just fine, not because he liked being in her apartment, not at all) and the next moment the TV remote had somehow found its way into his hand. 

A few minutes turned into half an hour and soon Brad’s beer was empty and his eyes were closed. He wasn't asleep (not yet, but probably soon) and just enjoyed existing on Claire’s couch, surrounded by her massive collection of books and the lingering smell of brown sugar and suddenly Brad stopped thinking when he heard a sob coming from the bedroom. 

He was up on his feet in no time and then, after opening the door, saw her on her back and with hair sticking to her forehead. Claire’s eyes were still closed and her left hand next to her face was wrapped around something that seemed to be a stuffed animal? Brad would've chuckled, but when another whimper reached his ears he quickly made his way over to her. 

“Claire? Hey, Claire.” Brad turned on the small light on her bedside table and then gently ran his thumb over her fingers. She was gripping the stuffed bunny so hard that her knuckles had turned white and sobs kept wrecking her body until Brad forced his thumb underneath her fingers, into the tight grip, and held her hand while he reached out with his other hand to brush some of the damp hair off her forehead. “Claire!” 

Her eyes shot open and then, after a short pause in which she had stared at Brad as if she had seen a ghost she turned to her side (away from him) and just started crying. Brad’s heart shattered. 

For a moment it felt as if he wasn't supposed to be with her. They were just colleagues and maybe friends after all (nothing more, definitely not), and sitting on the edge of her bed at -- Brad glanced at his watch -- 9 in the evening really didn’t seem right, but when he saw her curling up even tighter than before he couldn't. His heart didn’t let him. And so Brad reached out to touch her side before he pushed one of his arms underneath her to pull her close. 

“Gotcha, Claire. Shhht.” She really was tiny, especially in his arms. Brad held her close against his chest, he had his long arms tightly wrapped around her upper body while she rested on his thighs and buried her face in the fabric of his shirt over his collar bone. 

And then he waited. Until her tears started to dry, until the sobs got less and less violent, until they turned into hiccups and she was taking deeper breaths. Claire stayed quiet and close to him, because he meant warmth and comfort and most importantly safety. Even though her brain still felt as if it had been filled with wet cotton balls she knew that she was safe with Brad and she pressed her cheek a little tighter against his broad chest, curled up. 

Brad couldn’t help himself. He ran his hand over Claire’s side and sighed softly before he (rather awkwardly, damn those longs limbs) climbed into bed and settled against the headboard. He pulled the blanket over the petite woman and his legs, then tightened the embrace again and allowed her to tuck her head under his chin. 

“Thank you.” It was barely a whisper, but Brad understood her clearly and just hummed in response. Under different circumstances he would've smiled, maybe even joked, but right now all he cared about was to get Claire as comfortable as possible, both physically and mentally. It was hard not to think about their night in Colorado with her so tightly pressed against his chest (Brad had to admit that) but after the dark haired woman had settled and was now breathing quietly he couldn't stop sleep from overwhelming him as well, but not before he mumbled “Love you, Claire” into the silver strands and pressed a soft kiss on top of her head. 

____________________

Brad knew that he wasn't home when he woke up and felt a bundle of heat against his side. He shifted (just carefully) and then, after realizing that not only he had his hand resting against Claire’s lower back but her hand was tucked under his shirt, touching his bare side, he was fucked. 

He had promised Claire not to worry about anything, because he knew how much she liked to do that to waste some time, and that whatever had happened in Colorado (a whole lot of funky business) would also stay in Colorado. However -- right now they were in New York City and en route to another disaster (not in Brad’s eyes but probably in Claire’s, he wasn't sure). 

From what he was able to see and hear she was still asleep and tucked against him, halfway on her side and with her head and parts of her upper body right on Brad’s chest. Their legs were tangled and every now and then Brad felt her fingers twitching against his bare skin which made him smile and he couldn't keep himself from moving his hand up to her hair to run his fingers through her smooth hair.

He loved Claire’s hair. 

____________________

Brad had fallen asleep again because when he woke up his hands were on Claire’s back (one of them still in her almost tangled ends) and she was stirring. He heard his phone ringing in the living room and sighed. “Good mornin’, Claire.” 

Instead of replying to him the woman just hummed and buried her nose in the soft shirt Brad was wearing. Then scent brought comfort and helped her to ignore the dull ache rising in her body. “Mhm..” 

“Hungry?” 

“No, not really.” Claire slowly pushed herself up and then looked at him. She was still sleepy and sighed before she settled back against his chest. “Do we have to talk?” 

“Yeah, probably. This ain’t Colorado, huh?” 

“It’s not, no.” She dragged the tip of her finger over the graphics on his shirt and then rolled on her back to stare at the ceiling (yes, she missed Brad’s warmth immediately) and let out another sigh. 

“Hey, too much sighin’, half-sour! There’s nothin’ to sigh about. Jus’ me ‘n you.” 

“In my bed, apparently.” 

“Uhm, yeah? Cause you were crying like a- dunno, like a really sad person. Had to come and check on ya, huh? Can’t let you cry all night over some stupid nightmare, bub.” Brad’s voice had gotten softer and he looked over to her, reached out and gently ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. “I want you to be alright, Claire. All the time. Just want you to be happy and dancing with the butterflies, okay? Wanna tell me about the nightmare?” 

“Not really” she mumbled and then turned her head to look at him. “Just- a lot of cars. Screeching tires. Feels like-“ Claire paused for a moment. “Feels like the accident over and over again.” A single tear made its way down her cheek and Brad wiped it away quickly. “Always cars.” 

“You have them every night, huh? Those stupid nightmares? That’s why you still look like death even tho’ you had plenty of time to rest.” 

When she noticed how Brad was looking at her — his eyes so full of worry, mixed with warmth and — Claire felt her heart beating faster. “I know” she simply said and slowly sat up. “It’ll be fine. Thank you for staying.”

“We still haven’t talked about Colorado.” 

“Did you say that you love me? Yesterday?” 

Brad shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yeah. Always loved you, Claire. From day one.” 

Claire stayed silent and Brad felt his heart almost jumping out of his chest. He usually wasn't an anxious person (even though he was very sensitive) but right now he wanted to throw up and maybe go and chop some wood to distract himself. 

“I’m not- Brad, I’m not good when it comes to things like that” the dark haired woman suddenly mumbled. 

“Cause you can’t control the situation, I know. You tried to control everything after we left Colorado but all you do is spend so much time in your noodle that you forget everything else, huh?”

She nodded and her shoulders dropped. “Probably, yeah. I overthink a lot.” Claire turned his head to him when she felt his large hand against her back. 

“I know, Claire. But I don’t mind. I just want to go back to normal again, without you ignoring me in the test kitchen, or you disappearing whenever I walk towards your station. I miss you.” Brad’s honesty hurt and Claire couldn't help but bite her lip. It had never been her intention to make him feel this way (Brad was the purest human being on earth) and suddenly she was angry at herself for being such a coward and afraid of her own feelings. 

“Listen Claire- I didn’t graduate from Harvard. I don’t like to read, I go noodling and all that shit. I’m not the smartest-”

“Brad, stop. You’re perfect the way you are. You’re Brad.” Claire inched closer and then, once as comfortable as possible next to him, cupped his cheek. “You’re amazing.” And with that her lips found his. 

They moved in sync. Claire found herself in his lap just moments later, with his hands around her waist to keep her in place while her legs were wrapped around him. She was cupping his face with one hand, the other one rested on the back of his neck to keep him close and they kissed until they were both dizzy and gasped for air.

**Author's Note:**

> fin.


End file.
